"You depart for Lancashire to-morrow. . “The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. ” “We will go together,” she answered. This was enough for the poor widow. Man or woman. ” “Oh, well!” he said, a little doubtfully, “it’s just a phase,” and bent down and rested his hand on her shoulder for a moment, with his heart beating and his nerves a-quiver. And if the woman is not a rival, she must be—yes, that must be it.
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